


Monster

by Neleothesze



Series: Monsters Big and Small [2]
Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Drama, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, For the People Who Are Still Alive, Gen, Pseudo-SI, Reincarnation, Self-Insert
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-01
Updated: 2015-10-01
Packaged: 2018-04-24 07:41:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4911025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neleothesze/pseuds/Neleothesze
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You wanted an edge?</p><p>You got it! </p><p>Reincarnation is a reward for good little boys and girls but all power comes at a price. SI-OC as a Cervello. (Monster Series)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> As with previous stories in the Monster series, **this** was written for fun and **shouldn't be taken too seriously.** In fact, in spite of the somewhat dark themes it might touch on, I'll be treating almost everything with humor. Otherwise, between PTSD, cloning, indoctrination ...and the Mafia's own human trafficking, arms and drug trade and murder... this story would get pretty dark, pretty fast. :)

**Monster**

~o~

' _Dorothy A. Miller, 31, died at 2:07 am, Sunday, 16th October in a the _ Street fire which took the lives of 8 other people, including her husband Robert, 32, and son Michael, 7._

_She leaves behind her younger son, Victor, her mother Lily and grandparents Violet and John._

_Mrs Miller was a successful artist known best for her neorealist photography and her fantasy landscapes in oil._

_Friends may call at the _ Funeral Home from 11 a.m. to 5 p.m., Wednesday. Arrangements under the direction of _ Funeral Home, _.'_

* * *

_**I. The less said about her previous life, the better.** _

No. It wasn't bad. …on the contrary. Dorothy thought she'd had the perfect life. They had the large apartment in the best neighborhood, the expensive holidays, the luxury cruises, the whole nine yards. Painting was just a hobby (a lucrative one but with Robert's pay, money had never been an issue), one to pursue when she wasn't taking care of her two beautiful boys.

And then, she lost it all in one fell swoop… Years later and she could still recall the exact pitch of Mikey's cries as they struggled to open the door his bedroom, bash it open, trying anything while the fire spread and they choked on the heavy smoke.

Waking up in a glass tank, floating in a light-green liquid with an oxygen mask on her face just made her think of all the money she'd probably have to pay for plastic surgery if the burns had been this bad.

Dorothy couldn't tell how long she stayed in that tank, drifting in and out of consciousness, days, months… years? But back then, she wasn't worried. Because if they'd managed to save her, surely they did the same for Mikey and Robert.

Hahaha… Looking back, she could only sigh at what a moron she'd been.

* * *

_**II. As the days passed, she managed to stay awake for longer and longer periods of time.** _

And eventually, she started asking herself questions. What hospital was she really at? And where the hell were all the doctors?

Through the thick glass, she could see rows and rows of tanks where women lay suspended - infants, children and teens - all sleeping.

With the mask on, she couldn't speak so she tried knocking politely on the glass. When nobody came, she knocked more harshly. Shouldn't they have cameras in this place, Dorothy angrily thought as she banged on the glass.

Eventually, (by the time she was starting to consider getting Robert to sue these idiots, incredible recovery methods or not) a doctor rushed in, some pink-haired young woman in a white lab-coat. She might have sighed in relief and put the whole weirdness behind her if the woman had acted like any normal doctor. But while part of her attention was on Dorothy, she was speaking hurriedly on a phone at the same time - no professionalism these days - and her side of the conversation wasn't reassuring. At all.

"C-1022 woke up… No, no I don't know why… No, everything else is within normal parameters… Except her brain function, yes. I… No, there's nothing to indica-... No, I don't know-"

What the hell, lady! Even if you have no idea what's going on, you're not supposed to say that within the patient's hearing.

"Yes, it was the standard dose…"

Of course the doctor was too busy checking charts, talking on the phone and fiddling with some freaky-looking vials to notice Dorothy pointing towards her mask.

"Raise it to 200 ml? Isn't that too high for her age group? Are you... ...No, no, I understand."

When the greenish liquid started taking on a purple tint, Dorothy panicked. She started banging her fists against the glass and the bitch had the gall to just look at her with a bland smile.

"Please relax, C-1022, you still have some growing up to do."

What the hell did you just do? Didn't you just say the dosage was too high?! How can you just accept that?

And growing up? What sort of bullshit… Her hands… Oh, God! Her hands! Why were her hands so small!?

* * *

_**III. Whatever medicine they tried OD-ing her on, it obviously didn't work because Dorothy woke up, again and again.** _

Eventually, when three identical looking pink-haired doctors sat in front of her tank, reading charts and fighting over choices and procedures, she started questioning her sanity.

Their deliberations resulted in a painful and humiliating process at the end of which Dorothy was sitting in a flimsy hospital gown, being informed that in spite of her age (six! they'd told her she was a fucking six-year old) she had been declared adequately functional and that she'd be starting her training (and learning) regimen.

Oh, and that apparently, she was Cervello C-1022.

...It wasn't even a question, then. She'd clearly gone insane.

Still, even if she was crazy, there wasn't any need to let these doctors know.

If they wanted to treat her like a fully-functioning person, Dorothy mused, that just gave her the tools to ditch this place. She'd go back home and have Robert find her a reliable psychologist (or psychiatrist… if she was really that far gone), none of these lunatics.

* * *

_**IV. Soon, the 'Cervello' had her learning languages and doing some sort of insane fitness workout - which could easily double as military training.** _

Now, studying languages was something Dorothy had mostly enjoyed but they'd picked English, French and Italian, two of which she already knew (and a third where she knew the two essential phrases: ' _Dov'è il bagno?'_  and ' _Diretto per l'aeroporto , per favore.'_ ), so after some five months of being treated like some kid genius, they switched to German (where she plummeted from genius straight to imbecile).

That had been a long, long year. She might have been almost eight when her German was finally deemed acceptable. Instead of stopping, the teachers merely switched to Russian, in the vain hope perhaps that the ordeal with studying German had been a one-time thing. However, Dorothy's knowledge of Russian didn't amount to much... some cheery song about planes coming first and girls second and the lyrics to Ochi Chernye (remembered because of that one freaky cage scene in Syberia). Needless to say, the 'genius kid' label didn't make it back.

By then, the fitness workout had graduated from army training to army torture… and Dorothy had had enough of these psychos and started planning her breakout. Carefully. Because, supposing she wasn't crazy - and in cases like these it was always safer to assume you were - but just  _supposing_ she wasn't crazy... then, oh, God, then she was just some pink-haired eight-year old kid in some possibly secret facility of some shady organization  _which wasn't supposed to exist._

* * *

_**V. Heh. She'd worried for nothing.** _

She'd asked her 'teachers' about communications and monitoring as discreetly as possible ...and could only laugh silently when she realized they actually trusted that their stupid cloning process and their stupid indoctrination program were enough to keep everyone loyal. Where were the barcodes, the microchip implants, the tagged clothing, the threat of dire bodily harm and/or death in case of escape?

Well, what did she know. For any normal Cervello, it might have been enough.

Nature said that they were bred as efficient little worker bees. Nurture… well… between the posters, books, classes, workshops…  _something_  might've worked if she'd been a real kid. Or even one of those blank-faced teens that joined her for most of her classes.

But neither nature nor nurture could really win against thirty one years of being someone else.

She might have still been eight, nine perhaps, when Dorothy took part in her first and last mission simulation. They were driven to Naples and asked to report to  _some_  dude from  _some_  family for  _something_.

Irrelevant, Dorothy thought and as soon as their drivers left, excused herself for a bathroom break; then, using all the tricks in the book - volume one from the unrealistic spy movies from her past life, volume two from the Cervello's own training - ditched everyone else.

Half an hour later she'd begged enough money for her needs. A small blonde girl took the first train out of Naples. Two hours later, a brown-haired boy got off the train in Rome.

Right… now, to find a phone and call… try to call her family. ...She'd prove her identity somehow and they'd get her out of this hell.


	2. Chapter 2

**VI.**  " _ **Yes?"**_

That voice… it wasn't anyone she recognized… Shit.

"...Robert? Hun?" Her hands were shaking. It had taken too long to make an international connection over the public payphone, calling their mobile numbers had been a bust and there was this weird feeling in the back of her head, as though her brain had suddenly developed a sixth sense for danger and that sixth sense was pinging insistently.

_"No. Wrong number."_

"Please don't hang up! Please!" she pleaded. Oh Gods, why wasn't anything going right?

 _"It's five in the fucking morning."_  the woman on the other end groused  _"Call again at a normal hour."_

"No, please, just... how long have you had this number? ...This used to be our home number and..."

_"Look kid, is this some sort of prank call?"_

"No! I-"

_"We got this over a decade ago... and frankly, you don't sound that old."_

"Over a... I see..." It certainly fit with everything else… This new body, the Cervello organisation. But somehow she'd hoped… she didn't really know what for. For Robert and Mikey to have made it? For her family to have moved back to the same apartment that'd burned down?

_"Now, if that's all-"_

"I- yes. Sorry to have woken you."

_"Word of advice, kid, learn some common courtesy and wait till a decent hour to call people..."_

The woman might've complained some more but Dorothy stopped listening. Through the grimy, graffitied glass she stared at the world outside the phone booth and, from across the street, two identical pink-haired teens stared back.

* * *

**VII. _She didn't stop to wonder how the Cervello had found her, she ran._**

The streets were empty at this hour, with just their steps echoing on the flagstones as they rushed past. Some animal instinct must've made Dorothy pause when she noticed the butcher's shop, made her drive her boot through the glass window and jump inside.

It was eerie, dark and silent… and Dorothy's hurried search for some sort of weapon led her to the back of the store, where an old-fashioned cold storage room took up most of the space. It took a bit of work, but the heavy doors slung open just as she felt the two Cervello come up from behind.

"C-1022. Why did you run?" one of them asked and this stopped the girl short. Oh, they couldn't have been this stupid, Dorothy thought. After almost two years of sharing a room with the teen, she'd have recognized that whiny pitch anywhere.

To almost anyone, the two agents would've seemed identical but strangely, all clones had one thing unique to themselves: their voices; well that and a minuscule amount of self-expression (which didn't usually extend to any aspirations to freedom and personal satisfaction)... but there'd been one girl for whom Dorothy had held high hopes.

"...Seisei?" she hesitantly asked.

Her question received a minute nod. Hah… so the teen really was C-1066. That could prove either helpful or problematic...

"...And who might you be?" Dorothy then questioned the other.

"C-813, mission coordinator." There was a hint of pride in the young woman's tone, slight and quickly hidden; still, it told Dorothy that this was just another teen, not one of the more experienced, more cunning teachers. Good.

"You must come with us immediately, C-1022. We are already behind schedule due to your unauthorized departure."

"Now see here 813, I can't go back."

"It's non-negotiable." the agent countered, leaning to grab the younger girl while Dorothy darted out of reach.

"Look, that life may work for the rest of you, but it's not for me. If you could-"

"Your retrieval is our main objective, C-1022."

"I don't want to go back. You've made a mistake. I'm sorry, but I don't belong there. I never have, and trying to bring me back won't solve anything." she said slowly, trying to reason with the team head.

"You may submit your grievances to your unit leader or the psychological counselor-"

"It's like talking to a machine! Don't you understand, you….you…" Dorothy spluttered, slamming her palm against the door.

"Please calm down, C-1022. It's nothing personal."

"Nothing personal?! Nothing personal ?! This is my life!" she screamed before drawing a deep, shaky breath and forcefully stretching her lips in a smile.

"I've been going about this the wrong way. I'm so sorry, 813… I should've just explained. You see, I discovered something terrible. Perhaps if I share it with you, you'll understand. But... " she looked around, feigning worry. "This area is too open. Oh… let's go in here. Nobody should be able to listen in."

Hurriedly stepping inside, Dorothy urged them to follow and, after turned a corner behind some shelves, she asked.

"By the way, Mission-Coordinator C-813, could you perhaps call the base and tell them you found me… I wouldn't want them to… worry too much and dispatch anyone else."

"A sensible suggestion, C-1022. So tell us what you meant quickly, please. There's no reception in here."

"Ah, I see… No signal... How unfortunate…"

Grabbing Seisei's arm in a steel grip, Dorothy quickly pushed the clone towards the doorway.

"I discovered something very important… The cloning process makes for individuals with a very... very… very low survival instinct." And with that, she slammed the door and turned the lock.

"What did you do?!" Seisei's voice sounded almost panicked. Ah… I knew they couldn't have completely stamped out the clones' emotions, Dorothy thought, while trying to ignore the frantic banging from the other side.

"Listen up, Seisei. If you're carrying any devices, destroy them. Then get out of your clothes and get dressed in this..." Dorothy said, tossing some of her spare clothes to an unmoving Seisei while she changed the cold room's temperature from 4° Celcius to -10°. "After you've done that, you'll start explaining how it is you found me."

"C-1022! that room… You.. you-"

"Seisei! Shut up and listen." the girl said firmly. She tried to sit up straighter and look intimidating… but there wasn't a lot an eight-year old could do when faced with a teen almost twice her height and weight. "You're going to do exactly as I say, exactly when I say it. We're in a butcher's shop and I swear to everything holy that if I see you doing anything I don't approve of, I'm going to take this cleaver, chop you up and shove you in that same room as 813. Do you understand?"

Wide-eyed and shaking, the pink-haired clone looked more like a lost little lamb than a fearsome Cervello agent. Mutely, she nodded.

* * *

**VIII. _The good news: it turned out Dorothy did have a tracker on her, as did Seisei, both easily taken care of._**

The bad news: the Cervello - or would that be 'the Cervelli' - could somewhat sense when other clones were nearby (that pesky, so-called sixth sense that had been bothering Dorothy during the phone calls). Seisei's explanation was that this sixth sense allowed Cervello agents of one Famiglia to be aware of possible mission conflicts with agents assigned to another mafia family. For Dorothy that was pretty troublesome as it meant they'd have to find somewhere to live where there was either no mafia presence or a very low one, all without knowing where the various families' territories were supposed to be.

At least Seisei wasn't causing her any problems at the moment. The (exaggerated ...and frankly unrealistic) threat of bodily harm - or the fact that there was suddenly no one there to give her orders - had made the clone very compliant.

Good.

It made Dorothy feel somewhat better about taking the older Cervello with her, even when it wasn't the smartest thing she could've done. ...But Seisei had always been something of a pet-project. She'd started out as one of those blank-faced teens who seemed more like robots than people… fully-grown newborns implanted with some memories of speech and customs but not enough knowledge to adequately function in the world.

She'd been meek and well-behaved, listened to orders and learnt things reasonably fast… And well… Dorothy supposed there was some truth to the idea that repeated exposure to any non-negative stimuli made people like them more. The more time Dorothy had spent with the roommate she'd dubbed Seisei, the more the clone seemed like an actual family member that'd just sprung up one day, one you didn't necessarily like but still couldn't help but care for… like that loud, melodramatic, over-emotional granny who pissed you off yet still baked the best cookies and gave the warmest hugs.

"...Did you get all that?" Dorothy asked after she finished explaining her plan.

"I... did."

"So from now on, it's Dorothy… Well, Dorotea I suppose - shouldn't stand out with a foreign name… But none of that 1022 and 1066. ...Do you have a name you'd like to-"

"The one I have is fine." Seisei hurried to assure her.

"What? Of course it's not fine! You're a person. Act like it… don't just resign yourself to being a numb-"

"No!… I mean… The one you picked out for me… Seisei. It's fine. I want to keep it!"

She seemed embarrassed by her outburst… but determined. It made Dorothy feel proud. Heh, Seisei has certainly come a long way, the girl thought with a smile.

"Tch. Six-six… not one of my best ideas, but if you insist… I suppose there's nothing I can do about it."

* * *

**IX. _In the end, the orphanage took them in: two poor, orphaned sisters who'd had enough of living as street rats._**

The caretakers had their papers drawn up too, from birth certificates to medical records (...cheapest fake papers ever made). At times, Dorothy still worried about any unplanned adoptions. It had become habit to grab Seisei and make themselves scarce whenever strangers came to the orphanage.

Of course, life could never be so simple. Out of some atavistic desire for a family perhaps... but Seisei actually  _wanted_  to be adopted, as dangerous as the outcome might be. Therefore, during most of these impromptu outings, Dorothy ended up scolding Seisei for dragging her feet, holding her up and generally acting like a sulky teen - which was actually amazing behavioral and emotional progress for the clone but which Dorothy, with the skill of tired parents everywhere, completely disregarded because it went against her current goals.

"...making me tow you along as though you were a car with a busted engine. And stop slouching. It looks horrible." Dorothy said, turning to scowl at her companion. Tch. Lazy Seisei was following her even more reluctantly than usual.

"Dorotea... look-"

The brief distraction made Dorothy bump into an elderly short person - no, she corrected herself as the person turned around - a white-haired, lavender eyed boy.

The preteen stared at Seisei for a long moment, then looked between the two girls and finally asked "Cervello? What are you doing here?"

Cervello? How did this kid know that name? Could he be part of the Mafia? Dorothy inspected him with narrowed eyes. That coloring looked... familiar. Before Seisei could say anything incriminating, Dorothy stepped in front of her and flashed the kid a wide, warm - and hopefully genuine-looking - smile.

"Brain? Oh dear… Did I hit your head when I ran into you? I apologize. Does it hurt? I was so excited to show my sister around town… I'm afraid I just wasn't paying attention to where I was going." she babbled "Please forgive me?"

The kid seemed to be buying it… He was smiling at least, his head tilted slightly to the side, as though he'd noticed something unusual and couldn't quite figure it out. Before the two girls could pass him by, his arm shot out and grabbed Dorothy's wrist.

"Ah… No harm done. ...But you could treat me to some gelato to make up for your clumsiness. You did after all almost knock me over."

Dorothy tried not to grit her teeth too obviously. "I'm so sorry. We don't really have any money with us."

"Hmm… How about I treat you then, and you can pay me back next time."

"Next time? I-"

"Hmm?"

"Look, I'm sorry but-"

"Oh, here's a good spot. Sit, sit." In short order, he'd manhandled the younger girl into the gelateria while her supposed sibling followed behind looking somewhat confused.

"You're being awfully friendly to some strangers you've just met." Dorothy groused as she sat on the very edge of the chair. "What if we'd been some pickpockets who just bumped into you to steal your wallet?"

"Maybe I would've had my wallet stolen then." the boy answered with a carefree smile. "And as for us being strangers… My name is Byakuran. What's yours?"

Why is it that whenever I assume anything bad, the assumptions are always so accurate, Dorothy silently seethed. It never worked that way for any good assumptions.

"I'm Dorotea ...and this is my sister… Seisei. Pleased to meet you, Byakuran." she grumbled, feeling anything but.

"Sisters… yes, you look so alike, if not for the age difference, you could've passed for twins."

"So we've been told." Dorothy mumbled, poking at her ice-cream cup.

"You know… As strange as it sounds, I've seen other dark-skinned pink-haired girls around. Do you have any other siblings?"

Seisei gave Dorothy a panicked look which made the younger girl curse silently. There was no way for Byakuran to have missed that.

"None that I know of. We're orphans." she said matter-of-factly.

"Oh. How… sad. ...To have to wait for some family to want you…"

"We're not waiting for anyone."

"Oh?"

"Please don't worry about us. We're fine just as we are."

"But what if you  _did_  find a family to care for-"

"We don't need, nor want one. Thank you for the ice-cream. Seisei, we're leaving." Dorothy curtly announced. "I hope you have a nice day, Byakuran."

"It's certainly been one so far. What an interesting little girl..." Byakuran cooed as the two girls hurriedly crossed the street.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the curious, there's a sketch of Dorothy/C-1022 on my tumblr: neleothesze.tumblr.com/image/125862888979


End file.
